Enduring Knight: Gods of the Abyss
by KuraNova
Summary: There was nothing to be done, she decided, clutching her pendant in a white-knuckled grip. They would have to journey to the Free Marches, find this catalyst, and raise an army to fight the archdemon. Maker, how was she supposed to do all of this without Cullen?
1. Chapter 1

_In Ages past, the land lay saturated with magic, across which ancient, powerful beings strode . Then, all the inhabitants of Thedas lived in harmony with these entities, whom they came to revere as gods. As time went by, man and mer became more learned, insightful, and soon they had begun to provide for themselves the things for which they had once prayed to their gods to bestow. The gods were forgotten, disappearing into the memories of the few who remembered their might, and the strange and wondrous magic they wielded._

 _Though old and forgotten, the gods were still mighty indeed, and guarded themselves with great winged beasts against mortal machinations that would see them destroyed. Ages passed, wars were waged, and one by one the olds gods fell to mortal ingenuity and ambition. Those that remained hid themselves away in seclusion, growing incensed and ever more restless. Soon, they began to turn on one another, cursing, killing, and wreaking havoc on peers and disciples alike._

 _One god, however, known now only as the Maker, did not follow the dark path others of his kind had taken. Instead, he yet held hope that their children would return to them. Mistaken was he, when discovered that in their reckless ignorance and boundless greed, mortals had deigned to enter his realm and seat themselves on his throne and cast him aside. Those who had once feared and revered magic had harnessed it, and now were as dangerous as they were benighted._

 _In retaliation, ire sparked in the face of such depravity and thoughtlessness, the Maker cast the intruders from his home, cursing them with a scourge they would pass on to their loved ones and so on, until the whole of the world knew his wrath. The Maker turned his back on his children, leaving them to their demise as he withdrew from the physical realm to join his fellows in their isolation and let his curse, his Blight, blacken and scorch the earth._

 _This First Blight took its toll on all the living of Thedas, but was ultimately beaten back by the bravery and curious, secretive abilities of those called the Grey Wardens. Since, many Blights have ravaged the land, but never has there been one quite so powerful as this._

 _Has the Maker himself finally been corrupted by his own curse?_


	2. Chapter 2

**We're doing it, friends! Finally, here's the sequel to Enduring Knight! Thank you all so, so much for your patience and support! Please enjoy**

 **Tunes for this chapter: We Fight On - Dragon Age Trespasser DLC**

* * *

Evelyn stifled a giggle at Cullen's expense as he swore softly to the empty, cavernous ballroom. His hand settled warm and heavy at the base of her spine while the other gently clasped her much smaller hand in his. The heat from his body bled through her clothes, giving her an excuse to press nearer to him, though she was already indecently close as far as propriety was concerned - not that either of them cared one whit about that . The air was chill in their secret place, cold enough that Evelyn's cheeks were pleasantly heated with each frustrated grumble leaving her husband's mouth as he focused dutifully on his feet.

"Stop thinking so much about it," she tried to coax his gaze up from the floor to look at her.

She succeeded for a moment as his bright gaze flicked up from the floor to her face, but then she shifted, forcing them to turn, and his concentration went straight back to his footwork. "We don't have to dance, either," Evelyn offered. Honestly, she wouldn't have minded not having a proper wedding ceremony at all, but Josephine and Cullen, oddly enough, had insisted. Of course it was little surprise to her that the Commander was so adamant about doing everything expected of a groom at his own wedding, and Maker knew he never did anything by half-measures. It was the entire reason they'd been practicing his dancing for a full week now, cooped up in the old, rubble-filled ballroom deep within the bowels of Skyhold.

"I want to," Cullen remarked, a pleased little rumble reverberating within his chest as he got the next turn correct. "You deserve no less, and Josephine assures me that I will be expected to dance alone with you in front of a hundred or more simpering noble families from all over Thedas." He huffed, clearly bothered by the notion, but his eyes lifted again and his gaze softened as he looked at her. "I would never want to embarrass you in front of those cut-throats."

Evelyn smiled at him, long over feeling diminished by his generalized opinion of the noble houses of Thedas. He was not wrong.

"You would never embarrass me," she assured him, stepping closer, halting their movement as she pressed her body close and raised up on her toes to quickly brush her lips over his in a kiss.

She felt his chuckle shake her chest as his lips quirked into a smile against her cheek.

"Are you so sure about that? I hear I can be rather offensive." As he spoke, Cullen planted brief, open mouthed kisses against her cheek and down her neck, pausing when the hard beat of her pulse thumped against his lips.

"You've been listening to Josephine. You're not all that offensive," she paused a beat, "but perhaps a tad too honest?"

His laugh was light and warm, beginning in his belly and rumbling out of his chest to echo off of the stone walls. Evelyn couldn't help the smile that broke across her face at his obvious joy. It'd been a long time since she'd heard him laugh like that. Right after the debacle at the Winter Palace with the Qunari and Solas, they had decided to keep the Inquisition strong in preparation for what was to come, and Cullen had made the difficult decision to begin cutting back on his lyrium doses. They had time now, he'd said, and in his eyes there had been a determination that Evelyn could not deny. Thus far, it seemed that things had been going well. There were still sleepless nights, aches and pains, but Cullen was making progress.

"I'm still considering it a virtue," he chuckled when the boisterous notes of his laughter had faded from the room. "Someone needs to tell those fops when they're being ridiculous."

Evelyn grinned, moving her hands over his chest, fingers gripping tightly into the fabric of his shirt. "What would they ever do without you and your honesty, Commander?" she spoke coyly, tilting her head up so her lips could meet his has he moved to kiss her once more.

"Mm," he mumbled against her mouth.

She heard the rubble shift first, breaking away from the kiss a moment before Cullen jumped as well. Startled, the pair of them watched the loosened stones roll impotently to their feet, then looked at one another in concern and confusion.

"An earthquake?" Evelyn queried, eyebrows furrowing into a small frown. The last time they'd dealt with earthquakes had been their Deep Roads excursion - the one that had ended in more death and questions than Evelyn had ever wanted to take part in again.

"That seems the most likely reason," Cullen answered, cocking his head a moment as if listening for something. "I don't hear any sort of assault from outside." Certainly, if he did he would not be standing beside her so calmly.

He took Evelyn's hand in his, leading her out of the ballroom and up into the main hall where nothing at all was amiss, and everyone seemed to be going about their day.

"Must be nothing, then," Cullen murmured to her, stroking his thumb over the knuckles of her marked hand absently.

* * *

Moonlight filtered into their bedroom through the open balcony windows, pale curtains stirring in the cold breeze. Cullen lay bare beside her, only a thin sheet loosely draped about his hips as he slumbered. Evelyn stirred, squirming out of her nest of blankets and pillows enough to rouse her husband. He woke only enough to sling an arm around her middle, hauling her up against his body with a sleepy mumble, but as much as Evelyn wanted to remain in the safe circle of his arms, she needed to get up.

Another breeze drifted into the room, making the naked flesh of her arms prickle and rise in goosebumps. Something was not right. Evelyn glanced over at Cullen, her fingers rising from the bed linens to delve into his tousled curls. As she stroked his hair, she opened her senses wide, feeling the veil stir and wash around her like waves lapping upon a shore.

She could hear something, faintly at first. It was buzzing sound, the likes of which she'd never heard before. Curiously, it began to grow louder, deeper, and she thought, perhaps foolishly, that there was a rhythm in buzzing. Just as she was beginning to work out the beat, the door to her quarters crashed open.

Cullen shot upright, the muzzy bleariness with which he'd treated Evelyn only moments ago burned away in the clear intensity of his eyes as he first looked at his wife, and then the origin of the sound down below.

"Commander, we're under attack!"

"Report!" Cullen called.

In a flurry of motion and with liquid grace, Cullen rose from the bed, tugging on his trousers more quickly than Evelyn had ever seen. The soldier brought Cullen up to speed on the situation from below the railing as Evelyn too rose from the bed and hurried to dress. She'd succeeded in finding her trousers, but her shirt was nowhere to be seen.

"We need to go!" The soldier called up again after a brief pause. "Barris is keeping the stairwell clear for now, but there's more coming!"

Cullen tossed Evelyn his shirt in the mayhem, foregoing any protection beneath the weight of his armor as he strapped leather and metal into place. "Ready?" he snapped, unsheathing his sword and holding his shield aloft.

Evelyn nodded after tugging the dark garment over her head, still a bit dazed, but coherent enough to follow Cullen down into the still-unfinished stairwell. They followed the soldier's pounding footsteps to the main hall and straight into a battle. Cullen hardly needed the transition she did, instantly moving into action as he barked orders to his men nearby, keeping Evelyn close.

Bodies clashed, blood all around them, and it was only when one of the infiltrators rushed Cullen that she was able to see their enemy for what it was.

Darkspawn, the lot of them.

Hissing and screeching, Cullen caught the Blighted creature against the blue glow of the enchanted shield Evelyn had made for him in the Emprise du Lion, and thrust its flailing body across the floor. It wasn't long before another creature advanced upon them, and it was with Cullen's quick thinking and Evelyn's strong barrier that the Commander was able to guide them safely out of the main hall and into the relative safety of the upper courtyard. Few soldiers were able to escape in their wake, but few was better than none at all.

A sickening, wet thud drew her attention from peering over Cullen's armored shoulder to the doors of the hall, bleeding with Darkspawn, to the Qunari behind them, looking concerned, but happy to see them. A very squished corpse lay sprawled and broken at his feet.

"Glad you made it out of there, Boss," Bull grunted, hefting his maul, slick with gore, back atop his broad shoulders. "Barris was afraid you'd get caught on the stairs."

"We almost did!" Cullen called over his shoulder, cutting the conversation short as the Inquisition's soldiers managed to begin closing the massive wooden portal to the keep proper. He hurried forward to help, running up the steps and throwing his weight behind one of the doors in an effort to expedite the process. Evelyn wasn't far behind, allowing a few of their soldiers to slip free of the narrow space between the doors before she threw up her barrier, preventing any Darkspawn from following them outside. There was a moment where she thought the withered, grasping bodies on the other side of the door might be too strong for the Inquisition soldiers to hold back. But slowly, surely, the door began to close inch by inch, and eventually with a loud groaning thud, the doors closed with naught but motes of dirt and dust spewing out from between them. At once Evelyn allowed her barrier to encompass the entire portal, keeping the creatures from throwing wide the doors of Skyhold and slaughtering them all.

There were sounds of steel clashing and gasps of dying men just on the other side of the barrier, but Evelyn held the spell firm. Below, near the stables, she could hear more fighting. She felt the heavy weight of Cullen's gauntleted hand grasp her shoulder, and she turned to regard him with a mixture of fear and worry.

"Can you hold the spell at a greater distance?" he asked, edgy and uncertain. His eyes traveled between her and the door, then down below before once more coming to rest on her face. Evelyn nodded, allowing Cullen to lead her down the stairway and to the gatehouse. Unarmed members of the Inquisition fled through the gates and across the bridge, fearful cries of 'Darkspawn' and 'Blight' upon their lips.

She stood beside Cullen for several moments, the drain of keeping the barrier strong reflecting plainly on her face. She was tired already, and had only caught a few moment's rest between making love with Cullen and the attack. Evelyn winced, the mark on her palm now beginning to act up as well as a spear of green light illuminated the inky blackness of their surroundings. She could just make out her Commander's face, stern and yet worried, regarding her just a short distance away as he spoke hurriedly with Ser Barris and Bull. The trio all seemed to agree on something with efficient nods, and Cullen was then striding back toward her.

"Here."

Cullen's gruff comment pulled her from her distraction as he shoved his large, black ermine cloak into her arms. The barrier around the doors flickered for just a moment, and she redoubled her concentration, but knew she would not be able to hold out for long. She was simply too exhausted.

She blinked, receiving the cloak with a half-muttered oath. "What is this?" Confused, her pale eyes searched his, and he quickly looked away from her probing gaze.

"You're leaving. Put the damn cloak on."

Evelyn frowned, looking about the lower courtyard to see Master Dennet freeing the horses from their tethers and stalls, Bull hurrying toward them with her mare and his own hefty ardennes. Swiftly, she turned to Cullen, an angry retort on the tip of her tongue. How dare he send her away when the Inquisition needed her? When her soldiers needed her! But when she saw the worry lurking behind his steadfast amber gaze, she knew he was only trying to protect her. There was just one problem.

She wasn't going anywhere without him.

"And your mare?" she asked, nodding toward the stables.

He shook his head. "I can't. I need to stay here and help see to it that everyone is evacuated safely."

"Then I'll help too."

He let out an exasperated sigh. "Evelyn…"

"I'm staying." Her tone left no room for argument, but if anyone could match her stubbornness, it was her husband.

"You are the Inquisitor," he said, and she saw the tic in his jaw before he replied, every syllable that left his lips dripping with patience even as his men called from above. Evelyn's barrier was weaker still, her focus on Cullen forcing her to divide her attention. "I love you, beautiful, and I would want nothing more than to stay with you, but I need to remain here. This is my duty - our duty."

She couldn't deny the truth behind his words, but her frustration at leaving him behind both vexed and worried her. "I don't want to leave without you, Cullen." She pleaded, even as she felt the last of her magical energy ebb from her body.

"You'll leave and travel with Bull to Val Royeaux. Once everything is settled here, I'll come find you."

"Cullen-"

"Evie, I promise. I _promise_."

There was an exceedingly loud crash from the upper courtyard, the doors of Skyhold swinging wide on their hinges and bouncing off the cut stone as Darkspawn began pouring out of the keep like ants from a hill.

"Cullen!" Bull shouted, legging up on his horse.

The Commander wasted no time, quickly closing in on Evelyn, lifting her and then tossing her over her horse's saddle. She quickly struggled to right herself, catching only a glimpse of Cullen's golden curls before he slapped his gauntlet across her horse's rear and sent the animal surging out of the gates of Skyhold, Bull and his chargers close behind.

The moment they cleared the gatehouse and were halfway across the bridge, the iron gate fell over the only exit to Skyhold with the shearing ring of iron sliding over stone. The rumble as it settled against the ground rolled across the bridge. Evelyn had finally righted herself well enough to stick her feet properly in the stirrups and wheel her mare about to face the keep, worry etched in painful detail across her brow.

"Let's keep moving, Boss!" Bull called to her, pulling his mount up short when he realized she was not following after he'd rushed past her.

Evelyn grimaced, warring with the overwhelming desire to ride back across the bridge, blast open the gate and help Cullen. She knew, however, as she watched the dark bodies already pressing against the iron grate, that any action on her part to get back into Skyhold would simply reverse everything Cullen had done to keep the Darkspawn within Skyhold, preventing them from spilling down the mountain path to wreak havoc on the town below. it was not as if she'd had the energy to perform such a feat regardless.

Long, spindly arms with their loose flesh reached and grasped in her direction, and she strained to see her husband through the horde, but could not make out his shape. Fear lanced painfully through her gut, and she felt the panic rising up to choke her. Tears began to sting her eyes, even as Bull's large hand gently nudged her arm.

"Boss, we can't stay here. Cullen made me promise to get you safely to Val Royeaux. I figure he thinks Cassandra will know what to do about this."

Taking a deep breath of the frigid mountain air, Evelyn nodded stiffly, and as she exhaled she trembled. It took all of her sense to straighten in the saddle, toss one back look toward her home and her husband, before she allowed her friend to lead her away and leave those she loved to the Darkspawn.

Running from Skyhold screamed against everything she knew to be right and just. She should be helping them, she berated herself. What good was she if she could not help those in need? Her soldiers needed her. Maker, Cullen needed her too, whether the stubborn ass could admit it or not, and there she was meandering down the steep, rocky path into the densely forested pass that would lead them out onto the Imperial Highway. Perhaps wisely, Bull had said nothing to her since they'd been made to leave. She liked to think that it was perhaps that he felt the same as she - that both of them had a place beside their loved ones when such an offensive force put their very lives in danger.

She felt the panic again, and squelched the desire to cry her sorrow to the world, and instead gripped the pendant hanging at her throat and prayed. She prayed for Cullen's safety, Barris', and the rest of the men of their Inquisition, she prayed for this matter with the Darkspawn to be dealt with swiftly, and she prayed that this night would not be the night the Inquisition fell.

"Inquisitor-" Krem began when the telltale whistle of an arrow pierced the air, and with a fleshy thud sunk into the Charger's shoulder.

Their small band sprung into action immediately, Evelyn attempting to create a barrier that fizzled and died within moment of its conjuring. She was far too weak, she lamented. She should have never exhausted herself practicing her magic that night. As it was, Evelyn had little time to focus on her misplaced guilt, because Bull had pressed her further down the path, herding her away from the dark shapes that had begun to dot the rocky edifice of the mountainside above them.

More Darkspawn, she realized.

"Boss, better get running. When you get to the bottom of the pass, head for Val Royeaux. We'll catch up!" He knocked aside another arrow with his maul, turning to eye her critically. "Go on!"

"Bull," she began to argue, "surely-"

"Evie, your ass better be bookin' it to Orlais in the next five seconds, or I'm going to _push_ you down the mountain! Now move it!"

Startled, she acquiesced, though certainly not by choice. Again she was being made to flee, and again she would have rather stayed to fight. Again, she felt utterly useless. With great reluctance she turned her horse around and kicked her into a gallop. If everyone needed her to be in Val Royeaux so badly, then she would make it there. Bull _was_ right. Cassandra would know what to do about this.

She and her mare flew down the pass, her pale hair whipping about her face, nose and cheeks numb to the bite of the wind as they hurtled headlong into the dark. She was very nearly to the part of the path that forked, one road leading her to Ferelden, and the other Orlais. As she got closer, she could make out the road sign in the distance, but was utterly surprised at the band of creatures blocking her way forward.

More Darkspawn, and they were organized. How in Thedas could they possibly know her intended destination? Evelyn pulled up on her horse's reins and slowed, unsure if she should go back the way she'd come. The reality was that there were Darkspawn behind and before her, and she knew she needed to press on and get help - if not for her, then Bull and the men and women still trapped in Skyhold.

Cullen's image materialized in her mind, and she quickly shook it free. She wouldn't, couldn't, deal with that now.

Making up her mind, she kicked her mare's flanks once more, building up her speed quickly as they ran downhill toward the blockade of Blighted pressed forward, summoning another frizzle of magic, enough to upset a few stalwart bodies as she bared down on them. Unfortunately, when she attempted to break through the mass blocking the way forward to Orlais, her mare was pushed back, very nearly lost her footing, and Evelyn was forced in the opposite direction. She broke through on the other side, now on the road to Ferelden, and she urged her mare faster with a pat to her sweaty neck. with any luck her speed would hold out until they were well away from the Darkspawn, but she could not be certain if she'd seen the last of them.

She hadn't.

Out of the darkness, among the trees of the dense wood she'd ridden into at the edge of the Frostback Basin, a long sword swished from the underbrush and bit into her mare's chest. It seemed as if it all happened in slow motion. They stumbled forward a few paces, blood flying up to spatter into Evelyn's face and hair, and then they were falling, tumbling over the path and down into a shallow ravine. Debris scratched and prodded them as they rolled limply downward, and with a sickening crunch and extreme flare of pain they came to a stop.

Evelyn cried out immediately, her mare having landed on top of her leg and hip. She knew her leg was broken, and badly, but it took only seconds for her to understand that she had been pursued over the path.

Darkspawn chatter sounded from above and echoed down around her, and with tears streaming down her face, Evelyn screamed and grunted as she slowly, painfully wiggle herself free from her horse, which lay unmoving and silent on the ground. Once free, she looked around, vision blurry from her tears, but she was just able to make out the boughs of a short tree.

Evelyn half dragged herself to the trunk of the foliage, unwilling to take measure of her twisted limb in favor of getting as far out of the way of her pursuers as possible. On impulse she hefted herself up, pushing against the forest floor with her uninjured leg to give her height enough to grasp onto the lowest branch with a death grip. With all of her strength she heaved, and finally she was able to lift herself bodily into the tree and, using the same method as before, began to carefully traverse the boughs until she had gone as high as she possibly could.

Sweating, bloody, and damn near blinded with pain, Evelyn took stock of her position, sucking in a breath to quiet herself as she watched the dark skinny shapes of Darkspawn slip past the tree below her. Thankfully, they did not see where she had gone, and several minutes later, the sounds of their ghoulish chatter faded away into the night.

Timidly, Evelyn brought her legs down to straddle the branch, wincing at the weight of her broken leg pulling against her hip. She would have to wait to heal it, she thought with a grimace, breathing through another stab of pain. In the meantime, she would have to rest, and there was no way she could do so comfortably so high up in the canopy of the forest. There was also no way she was getting back down without the use of both legs.

She looked around wearily, a small bead of gratefulness escaping her in a sigh as she reached out to grab a rather thick-looking vine. Having no clue what she was about, but just settling for the best she could do, Evelyn wrapped the vine around her torso several times, then around the branch she was resting on, and settled back. She tested her bonds, rocking gently from side to side and biting the inside of her cheek when her leg throbbed once more.

Feeling secure, her entire body slumped forward, and she pressed her head to the unyielding bark of the tree and cried.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for all of the super awesome comments and favs I've been getting on the EK series lately, everyone! I love hearing everyone's input and hope you enjoy this next installment!**

* * *

Cullen's head throbbed mercilessly behind his eyes. He knew he hadn't had a drop of ale the previous night, nor had he engaged in a misguided sparring match with a Qunari who regularly endeavored to rattle his brain from his skull. Perhaps it was just going to be one of those days, he sighed, moving to bring his hand up to shield his eyes from the inevitable stab of sunlight that would be streaming through the balcony windows.

His first clue that all was not as it should have been was that his arm was considerably heavy to lift from the bed, so much so that if he didn't know better, he'd say he was weighted down by sandbags. He frowned, eyes cracking open, presenting him with his second clue. Plumes of smoke obscured the blue sky above him, and as he took in the bizarre scenery, the dirt-smudged face of Marian Hawke loomed into view, a swipe of blood artfully smeared across the bridge of her faintly freckled nose.

Maker, this _was_ a nightmare.

He tried to open his mouth, attempting to tell her to get off of him, but his lips wouldn't obey. His words caught in his throat, parched and sore, and thus he became aware of just how horribly tired his body felt. He wouldn't know the difference between this and feeling as if he'd been run over by a hay cart. Slowly, he pieced everything together, and almost knocked heads with Marian as he shot upright, head pounding as he took in the devastation around him.

Skyhold was in ruins. Bodies and bloodstains were strewn about the lower courtyard, the stables on fire, and every door leading into the keep proper had been busted clean off of its hinges. The earth beneath him was dark and damp, and the coppery scent of gore filled his nose and lungs, causing his head to throb even more.

"Hey!"

He blinked, a small gloved hand snapping fingers in front of his face to grab his attention. Cullen cleared his dry throat, turning to see that Marian was indeed not a nightmare, but flesh and blood, crouched down beside him, wearing an expression that was a mixture of concern and irritation. He meant to say her name, but the difficulty of prying his dry lips apart to speak simply resulted in a lazy grunt.

At once her whole body sagged with what Cullen assumed to be relief, and she bowed her head a moment before her eyes snapped up to his. With a dangerous flash of anger in her gaze, Marian drew back her fist and punched him in the shoulder, though there was little weight behind it. The strike hadn't even jostled him.

"You scared me half to death, Cullen! What the hell did you think you were doing, facing down a horde of Darkspawn?" Marian's hand slapped against his metal breastplate weakly, but the sound made him wince as it rung in his ears and worsened his headache.

 _Darkspawn. Right. Where was- ? Maker's breath, Evelyn!_

Forcing himself to speak, Cullen managed to crack open his parched lips to speak, eyes drifting over to the ruined iron gate that barred the outside world from the fortress. "Where's Evelyn?"

Marian shook her head. "We didn't see her, Cullen. Only a couple of you were still alive when Solona and I managed to get in here."

Cullen grimaced. "I sent her away," he croaked, clearing his throat. His tongue tasted of lyrium, strangely. "She would have been on the road to Val Royeaux."

Hawke shook her head again. "Solona and I didn't come that way. We were traveling down from Orzammar. She's probably in the Emprise by now."

 _Maker willing_ , Cullen thought. Still, he felt his heart sink at the prospect of being ignorant of Evelyn's whereabouts, but he took solace in knowing that Bull was with her, and would keep her safe.

Hawke seemed to pick up on his worry, though he'd said nothing on the subject, and drew herself up onto her feet. "You're in luck, though. We were on our way to Val Royeaux." When Hawke offered her hand, Cullen took it and somewhat shakily got to his feet. For a moment he was surprised at Hawke's strength, but then reasoned that the woman _had_ taken out the previous Arishok in single combat.

Safely upright, head feeling too big for his shoulders from the pressure of his headache, Cullen squinted his eyes against the morning sunlight and took in the state of things. Skyhold was a ruin. Beyond the broken doors lazily swinging off of their hinges, there were numerous bodies littering the courtyard, and a trail of gore drew his eye all the way up the stairs into the keep itself.

"I'm coming with you," he said, gaze settling on the rookery. "But first, I need to send a message."

"Don't bother," a voice sounded from behind them.

Whipping his head around with a wince for his headache, Cullen drew himself up at the sight of Solona Amell, the Hero of Ferelden, walking purposefully toward them with a handful of parchment.

"You birds are either dead or flown off. No way you can send a message from here," she said. Her eyes narrowing on him as she looked him over, seeming to scrutinize his features closely. "How do you feel?"

He huffed quietly. "Fine, just a headache."

Solona nodded, stuffing the parchment into a satchel that rested at her hip after glancing briefly at a few of the missives. Cullen felt his hackles rise at the mere thought of her flipping through Inquisition intelligence. "Good," she said absently. "My Joining left me feeling much the same. No night-"

"I'm sorry, what? Joining?" Cullen asked, incredulous. His gaze swiveled to Marian, who had sense enough to look pointedly away from him, a guilty flush coloring her cheeks.

"Yes," Solona replied, once again drawing his attention. "I'm afraid that was the only way I could stop the Taint from claiming you." Her bright eyes, once full of soft innocence and warmth, now held a cold, sharp edge not unlike the blade of a knife. "Welcome to the Grey Wardens, Cullen."

* * *

Images swirled about her like a fierce wind, dark, twisted and relentless. She stood in the center, the eye of the storm, watching and waiting for her nightmare to simply end. Evelyn didn't possess the energy to fight it. Dark shapes hunted her, reaching out with clawed hands to grasp at her, to make her fear them. They spoke to her of many things, of her shortcomings and many failures, of course the most recent being her flight from Skyhold and leaving her husband behind.

Traitor, they called her - coward, murderer, and unworthy. Their words fell in and out, like a sound approaching at great speed only to fade away into the distance as it passed. She reminded herself to block them out, to not listen to their lies and half-truths, but the fact remained that they, those demons and spirits who could see into her very soul, were absolutely and unarguably accurate in their appraisal.

Even in this warped dreamscape she could feel the sting of tears welling in her eyes as she thought of her cowardice and all the people she had failed. A worthless Inquisitor, she thought with her heart aching fiercely in her chest, if she did not have strength enough to protect those she loved more than anything else in the world.

"Those thoughts are unworthy of you, my friend."

Evelyn spun about, eyes frantically searching for the familiar voice she had not heard since that joke of a gathering at the Winter Palace months before. After their farewell, she'd never thought to see, or hear from, him again.

"Solas?" she asked, eyes once again searching her surroundings. In the midst of the torrent of images something lay still and dark, a large shape that loomed above the others in an inky black mass. As she called his name, a pair of eyes opened to regard her silently, then another, and then another until three sets of rubied eyes were trained solely on her.

"On your feet, my friend. You've much work to do yet."

Evelyn came to with a start, the abrupt jerk of her body sending spears of pain shooting down her mangled leg. She drew a hiss in between her teeth, tentatively moving her body to sit upright on the branch of the tree she'd found refuge in the night prior. With gentle fingers she probed the flesh of her broken leg, her pale gaze noting that she was, indeed, very lucky to have not suffered worse for her trials. As the Veil stirred around her, she was pleased to feel her magic had been somewhat restored, and immediately set to work mending her flesh and bone.

Baby steps.

As she felt the impossible itch of her healing spell scurry beneath her skin, Evelyn reflected on her dream. Why Solas, of all people, would be contacting her. Had they not discussed before his plans for her world? She would not stand for it, and he, in his gentle, firm way, would not back down. She had pitted herself as his primary enemy, so why, she thought, was he now approaching her in in the Fade? What plan could he possibly have for her that would work to his advantage now?

If she were honest, she did miss her friend and his insight, the likes of which she could not begin to find in any of her colleagues, certainly. Solas' understanding of the Fade was greater than her own, given what he was, of course that was the case, but he had been the only individual in Skyhold capable of understanding her point of view on the Fade, spirits, and demons. Dorian obviously was always ready to lend an ear, but even he confessed that Evie's relationship with the Fade was far beyond anything he'd explored.

Evie sighed as she felt the itch subside, and only the cool brush of healing magic remained on her skin. Carefully, she shifted in her seat, relieved when there was only a small twinge of discomfort in her tense muscles, and nothing remained of the terrible break she'd suffered. Curious now, and unwilling to spend another long night up in the canopy of the forest, Evelyn unwound herself from the vine holding her in place and gingerly began to work her way down the trunk of the tree and eventually dropped herself down onto the forest floor. She lost her footing immediately, and fell into a crush of pine needles and dead leaves, limbs shaky and weak from the climb down. She lay there a moment, listening to the birds overhead, and the rustling of the wind passing through the foliage around her.

"EXCUSE ME!"

Evelyn's head popped up from the ground, deadfall clinging to her hair, at the noise. Recognizing it, she jumped quickly to her feet, wobbling only slightly, and hurried toward the sound.

"Hey! Anyone out there? This is entirely unfair treatment, I'll have you know!"

Evelyn was grinning madly, falling to her knees beside the body of her felled horse and leaning over to unfasten her saddlebags. Pulling them toward her with a grunt at their weight, she fell back with the hard leather parcels in her lap and quickly untied the knot to the one jostling madly about with muttered curses.

The very moment she had released the tie, Friend's welcome, bony visage tumbled from the bag.

"Thank the Maker!" Evelyn crowed, reaching to grasp his skull in both hands as she turned him to face her. "I thought I was alone."

The dark hollows of Friend's eyes flared blue for a moment in a rare moment of silence. "Evelyn," he began, "we are in a forest. Why are we in a forest? Did I actually get drunk?"

Evelyn sighed, smiling faintly at his poor attempt at levity. "You can't get drunk. You don't have a body."

He ignored her. "And why was I stuffed into that saddlebag? I'm claustrophobic! I almost suffocated and _died_."

"You don't have lungs to breathe. You can't die that way."

Friend scoffed, sounding remarkably like Cassandra. "Would you stop? I am trying to have a moment here."

Evelyn merely set him beside her, not bothered in the slightest when he used his abilities to levitate over her as she set to work combing through the belongings in her bags. She'd not had the opportunity to pack them herself, and she did not make a habit of leaving anything inside after returning from the field. As her fingers briefly brushed over the soft knit of a blanket, she realized with a sharp pang of guilt and worry that her friends must have seen to this for her, as distracted as she had been by holding the barrier steady.

Quelling her desire to cry, Evelyn pushed the blanket aside, a small sound of surprise leaving her as she delved into her bag and came away with a hunk of dried meat. There was no etiquette present when she tore into the morsel in a flash of teeth, chewing and swallowing noisily as her stomach rumbled with remembered hunger. Her eyes moved around her as she ate, taking in the forest itself and her location within. She didn't recognize anything here - no trail markers or signs, she was truly in the middle of nowhere.

"I think," she heard Friend say somewhere above her, "that someone is here to help you."

Evelyn glanced up quickly, to see where Friend was looking. Following his line of sight, she perceived a faint ripple of energy between the trees, shortly before a shadow parted from the rest of the underbrush. It stood there for a time, and they gazed at one another until she had finished her meal and rose to her feet. Feeling stronger now, she reached down to heft her bag over her shoulder, unwilling to leave what meager supplies she had behind.

It must have sensed her desire to move. It turned about and headed away from her and, thinking of nothing better to say or do, Evelyn followed, though it was perhaps reckless and not a little stupid for her to go traipsing about in the woods, in the wake of a spirit she did not know.

She glanced at Friend again, feeling satisfied enough that he did not see the need to warn her of this being's intentions. That was good enough for her, for now.

They traveled some distance as they were lead by the spirit, its dark shape flickering in and out of the trees ahead as they pressed onward. Eventually the light of the sun brightened the leaves of the trees overhead, the yellow glow flooding her eyes and forcing her to squint as she and Friend emerged from the dense thicket of trees and found themselves in a relatively wide open space. She stood atop a small hill, sunless grove behind her, and the shore of a large lake before her. _This_ she recognized. Quickly, as if she were running to Cullen himself, she broke away from the spirit and dashed along the sandy shore, desperate panting breaths echoing in her ears as her feet pounded on the ground beneath her. She ignored her sore muscles and her tired body, ignored the heavy weight of the saddlebag awkwardly slung over her shoulder, and she flew across the land with surprising speed until she could just make out the banner crown in the distance.

The outpost! It was still there!

She increased her pace, finally looking forward to familiar faces and a safe home, but when she drew near she came to a swift and sudden halt, feet skidding on the dewy grass beneath her.

It was empty.

Inquisition banners hung loose on the wooden walls, flapping in the breeze coming in from the lake. The tents were gone, and what structures remained were dark and desolate. The entire encampment looked dead and lifeless, and despite her earlier rush, she was not at all certain she wished to be here now. Were she to go by looks alone, she might've said that a spectre lived there now, waiting for her to heedlessly rush headlong inside so it could consume her whole.

Shuddering at the thought, she backed away from the abandoned camp, keeping it in her sight until it had once again become obscured by the misty horizon. Friend caught up to her then, quiet as she told him they needed to press onward, and that they would find no help there. Of course, he had several mean things to say about that, but Evelyn ignored him, too busy dealing with her own disappointment at finding herself, once again, entirely alone but for the spirit. As they returned to where they'd broke from the trees earlier, they found the flickering, dark shape of the thing that had led them there still waiting, and when they got close enough, it simply turned and continued on. With a sigh and moral padding to her resolve, Evelyn forced her feet to carry her forward.

* * *

It took a solid week of travel before Hawke, Solona, and Cullen had finally reached the outskirts of the Orlesian capitol, Val Royeaux. All the while the good Commander had been stewing inside of his armor, desiring nothing more than to throttle the Hero of Ferelden while at the same time thanking her profusely. Her actions and quick thinking when she and Marian had come across Skyhold had saved his life, after all, but now he found himself in a rather difficult situation. He was a Grey Warden now, there was no doubt, and as such he had to get used to the feeling of the Blight, not unlike the song of Lyrium, humming through his very being. Solona had also explained to him, in no uncertain terms, that his death would come to him in the Deep Roads.

To the Void with that.

Stubborn and willful, the Commander was not about to roll over and die at a day and time not of his choosing. There were positives to becoming a Warden, however. The first and most beneficial of which was his complete and utter departure from the cravings of Lyrium. They were gone entirely, and at first he did not believe such a thing was even possible. He'd mentioned it to Solona, who seemed to think that the Joining mixture, containing Lyrium itself, somehow negated or superseded the need for regular Lyrium dosing.

No Templar she had ever recruited need to partake of the substance afterward, she had said, though she didn't know the particulars.

Cullen was simply thankful that for once in his life there were no headaches to plague his waking hours. His body felt whole and normal and _functioning_. Even when he had been taking Lyrium, after the whole incident with Evie, he had never felt quite this _good_. There were drawbacks, of course. The whole die in the Deep Roads part for one, and then there were the nightmares Solona had mentioned. Though Cullen had been told that he would find them discomfiting, there was really nothing much to them at all. An Archdemon and a few talking corpses occupying his dreams felt a bit like having a tea party in a frilly pink dress compared what he had dealt with. It was certainly uncomfortable, but it was nothing he could not handle - and it certainly wasn't like having to deal with a posse of Orlesian noblewomen attempting to shimmy their way into his trousers.

There suddenly came a discomfort in his gut, a feeling of immense unease that centered low in his belly and radiated outward, almost as if there were a string attached to his navel and he was being pulled toward whatever lay at the other end. He shook his head with a frown, coming to a stop along the dirt path they traveled behind Solona. Hawke stood beside him, hand twitching slightly over the hard wood of her staff. She had been on edge since they wandered into this region, growing steadily more uneasy with each raised homestead they passed. Now, when Val Royeaux was so close, farms turned into proper villages, and those villages eventually began to merge into one large town - empty and ghastly without its occupants.

"Darkspawn," Solona explained, half turning to catch his eye.

It was disconcerting sometimes, Cullen thought, that she seemed to be able to read his mind. So the strange pull he felt was how the Wardens sensed the Darkspawn in the first place? Well, the feeling was certainly difficult to ignore.

"We've been seeing signs of Darkspawn since Skyhold, Solona," Marian spoke, releasing her staff from its place at her back.

That was true, Cullen agreed. No village nor town along the Imperial Highway had been spared the Blight's withering touch, and he'd long gotten used to feeling the disappointment at each abandoned outpost preventing him from sending word to his peers and to Evelyn. His heart squeezed painfully in his chest at the thought of not knowing if she was alright. Maker preserve him if something had happened to her.

"Seems as if we've followed those signs to the horde, then," the Warden reasoned absently. She turned to Cullen again. "How far ahead is Val Royeaux from here?"

"A mile or so," Cullen replied."We should be able to see the city proper from atop that hill." He gestured ahead of them to the crest of a small knoll that obscured the horizon from their eyes. Cullen did not expect to see anything hopeful when they reached the vantage point, but he, foolishly, did not expect to see the city burning. The breeze that greeted them as they stood peering down at the bright, shining city was fouled by the stench of deal and burned his nose with smoke from the fires. On the acrid air, the sounds of human suffering echoed in his ears. Even in the harsh evening light, the clouds of smoke billowing overhead obscured the sun as if on a rainy day, casting the cityscape in shadow. Dimly, a Chantry bell rung in the distance.

"Well," Solona spoke conversationally, bouncing on her heels, "looks like we won't be resupplying here. I thought the Chevaliers would have been able to hold back the horde."

With an almost infuriating ease to her shrug, the Warden turned away from the gripping sight of a city on fire, burning to the ground while the frightened wails of its citizens were carried into the sky by the smoke.

"You're leaving?" Cullen asked, confused. How could she leave people to die so easily? At the hand of Darkspawn, no less. Was it not her job - their job - to stop things like this from befalling Thedas?

Solona huffed, coming to a stop and eyeing Cullen and Hawke with an irritated expression. "I have more important things to do."

Hawke's spine straightened in indignation at the same time Cullen tensed at the woman's harsh words.

"More important things then save innocent people from the Blight?" Cullen countered, feeling his ire rise. "What manner of Grey Warden are you?"

Solona spun around to face him fully, a snarl curling her lip up to give a glimpse of white teeth. "The kind who is going to save my king from the Calling!"

Cullen snorted, opening his mouth to respond, but Hawke cut in. "Well," she spoke firmly, "I'm going."

The Commander turned to look at her in surprise before he nodded. "I'll join you. We might be able to save a few."

"Are you both insane?" Solona growled, marching right back up the hill to face the mage and the ex-Templar. "What are the two of you going to possibly manage in a city that large overrun with Darkspawn? The last time I did something like that I needed an army, and what do you have?"

"Ample stupidity, apparently," Marian quipped.

Cullen bit back his first instinctive response, which would have been unworthy of them both. "Do you hear that bell ringing in the distance, Warden?" he asked, inclining his head toward the city. "That's the bell atop the White Spire. It has to be rung manually. That means there are people in there, alive, and in need of our help."

Solona was silent a long while, arms crossed and looking as obstinate as ever. Cullen wondered how in Thedas Alistair managed to stay civil with her and her acrid temperament.

"Is the White Spire defensible?" Solona asked.

Cullen nodded. "One the strongest fortresses standing in Thedas."

She blew out a long suffering sigh, uncrossed her arms and withdrew her sword from its scabbard at her back. "Fine. This better be quick."

* * *

"Where are we even going?" Friend spoke up several hours later.

Evelyn and her companion had followed the shadowy spirit through the night, and with the dawn light just beginning to brighten the horizon the Inquisitor felt exhaustion heap upon her as if it were the weight of a dragon.

"Dunno, but we did pass Stone-Bear Hold a while ago. If we keep going this way, we should be heading toward the Hinterlands."

"And then?"

Evelyn glanced over at Friend, finding him once again collecting rocks with which to make his traveling easier. Thus far he'd managed to make a torso well enough, and he seemed to be working on a pair of legs. Idly, she wondered if this was how rock wraiths began to discern their shape, as the similarities between the stone wraiths and Friend were quite similar.

"I think once we're somewhere I recognize, we'll be able to find out way to Denerim. I know Leliana and Sera are there. With luck, they'll have word about Cullen and the rest of Skyhold."

"You really think so?" he asked, a bit more gently than normal, and for some reason it irritated her that he was trying to spare her feelings on the subject of her missing and possibly-dead husband. Of course she was upset. Of course she wanted to break down and cry like a child, but she simply couldn't afford to do that now. As Solas's voice in her dream had said, she had work to do.

"If anyone will know something, it's Leliana," Evelyn snapped, the anger she felt quickening her pace.

Through the underbrush they went, twigs and leaves crunching beneath her feet as their guide moved soundlessly in and out of view. Through the trees the sky grew lighter skill, and again Evelyn found herself emerging from the cover of the forest and into the open meadows of the Hinterlands. With a slow grin, she realized that she did indeed know where they were, and spun around to tell Friend when she saw him lurking just inside the treeline.

He was tucked out of direct sight, but he was plain enough to see to Evelyn. The power he wielded shimmered in the air around him like sunlight, distorting the Veil and pushing it away from him. Three pairs of eyes regarded her calmly, and Evelyn, glad that he was still a friend to her in some way, raised her marked hand and uttered a thank you to the elven god. It seemed she was not as entirely alone as she believed herself to be after all.

She felt confidence strengthen her limbs, and turned to Friend with a small smile. "On the road again."

"Yeah, no more detours please, Mrs. Map-Challenged."


	4. Chapter 4

**Oh my gosh thank you all so much for being patient through that long wait! Please enjoy!**

* * *

Cullen crunched all manner of debris beneath his boots as he, Marian and Solona made their way into the razed capital. Signs of war were scattered everywhere around them; doors were hanging off of their hinges and merchant tents lay flat against the ground. There was blood too, puddles here, gory smears there. Silently, he prayed that it all looked much worse than it actually was, but he was also not a fool, and could see the folly in holding onto such a hope. Val Royeaux and its citizens were likely now nothing more than a memory clinging to the gilt spires of its towers, shining high above them in the light of the moon.

Cullen was willing to concede that Solona had the right of it when she'd suggested they wait until nightfall to slip into the city. She knew about the Darkspawn - their mannerisms and the best ways to fight them. She knew how they operated as a force and how to keep the people with her alive. That did not stop Cullen from thinking that their self-imposed delay had cost them the opportunity to save lives. Whereas before there had been screams and cries indicative of survivors, the streets now lay hushed and dark.

The trio moved through the silent streets, only the sound of Cullen's armor clinking with his steps and the hum of his companions' magic breaking up the deafening absence of sound. Taking care to observe their surroundings, Cullen was surprised to see that the Darkspawn seemed to have been systematically going through each home and merchant stall, taking what was needed and leaving undesirable objects behind. The bulk of what they pilfered, he noticed, were weapons and armor. Curious, he opened his mouth to speak before Solona stiffened abruptly and shoved them all back into the shadows of a rank alleyway. The ground beneath their feet squelched unpleasantly with the presence of blood slaking the cobbles.

"More coming this way," she spoke softly, gritting her teeth. Her eyes flashed in Cullen's direction. "They'll be able to sense us apart from the rest of the horde if they come too close."

"I'm assuming that's a bad thing," he said. He was still getting used to this Warden business. Being able to sense the Darkspawn, a twisting in his gut that made him feel about as ill as any day away from Lyrium, was a new and strange sensation.

Solona made a frustrated sound, herding him further back into the shadows. Hawke was behind him at the other end of the alley, peering around the corner into the courtyard beyond.

"Assume that we'll be ass-deep in Darkspawn before you can blink unless we keep moving around them. We need to be quick and efficient. If we find anyone still alive, which I seriously doubt, we'll need to grab them and actually run. Got that?"

Cullen huffed irritably, thinking he'd much rather put her in her place like a raw recruit before realizing he was the raw recruit. Maker help him. "Yes ma'am," he ground out, and Solona didn't spare him a second glance as she moved away.

He wondered briefly what had caused her to change so drastically in the time they had been apart. Although ten years was a long time, and he himself had changed so much in within that span, he was finding it hard to reconcile the woman before him with the woman he'd once known - loved even. She had never been so angry and short-tempered with anyone in his memory, and he found himself regrettably missing the sweet Circle mage she had been before everything.

"Hey, grumps!" Hawke called over to them quietly, drawing their attention to where she stood, face illuminated by something out in the courtyard. "Come look at this!"

Cullen stood away from the wall, carefully stepping up behind Marian to peer around the corner of the building they sheltered behind. His smile came quickly and with a breathy chuckle.

"This is the best news I've seen all day," he said. "There are still survivors holed up somewhere."

Hawke flashed a grin over her shoulder, eyes softening with some measure of relief. "Trust the Divine to stop the Darkspawn where they stand."

Cullen nodded. "Cassandra is a bit of a force of nature."

Solona peered out carefully from behind them, eyes widening a fraction in surprise. "Is that-?"

"The White Spire," Cullen interrupted with a grin.

Before them, past the barren courtyard and above the tops of houses and manors, rose the imposing edifice of the Templar stronghold. From the top of its tallest tower, rising in the middle of the fortress like an upturned sword, was a beam of bright white light, seeming to shine straight up into the dark blanket of the heavens.

"How do you know anyone is there?" Solona asked with a frown, seeming to not comprehend the light's meaning as it shone steadily before them.

She couldn't have, Cullen then realized, not unless she'd made a personal trip to the Spire. He doubted very much she would have any inclination to do so under any other circumstances. So Cullen reigned in his impatience and frustration with her, endeavoring to explain quickly. The roiling sick feeling of the taint was growing even more restless in the pit of his stomach.

"The light must be actively maintained by Templars," Cullen spoke, edging toward the mouth of the alley and away from the discomfort the Darkspawn caused him.

Solona eyed him with a frown, seeming to find that ridiculous. "Why?"

"Think of it as a kind of meditation. Shifts for the light are eight hours long and require a great deal of stamina-"

Hawke interrupted him with a snort at his choice of words, and Cullen sucked in a calming breath before carrying on. "Anyway, that light means there are survivors. Now we just have to get to them."

"Easier said than done," Solona grumbled, casting a quick glance behind her. "Though we may not have much of a choice."

* * *

The Imperial Highway was rather busy, Evelyn mused. She'd found her way quickly to civilization from where she and Friend had emerged from the densely wooded basin, though not all was as she had hoped. She'd made for Redcliffe, by far the largest and most well defended settlement in the region, only to find that the arl had been recently summoned to Denerim. Bands of Darkspawn had passed through the area, one merchant had said, large enough to cause a stir in the capital and cause many of the villagers to make their way closer to the city as well.

Realizing that she'd find little help here, and with no coin to pay for a room or a hot meal, Evelyn lingered only long enough to rest a while beneath the shade of the tree at the center of the village before moving on. Friend met her at the gate, and she was surprised to see he'd gathered more stones to make into a body. His previous collection had been lost in the flight from Skyhold, and now he seemed to be even more enthusiastic about the endeavor. Just in the time she had been asking around within the village, he'd already accumulated a pair of legs and one arm, the shape of which reminded her a bit of a Behemoth.

"You better be careful, or someone will mistake you for a rock wraith," Evelyn teased as she hauled her saddlebags over her shoulder.

"A rock wraith? Ha! I am much more streamlined, and far more handsome."

"Handsome?" She asked, eying the tiny nug skull settled atop a rather large rock acting as Friend's chest piece. "You should find a different head, then. I can't say I've ever found nugs particularly attractive."

"Oh!" Friend sniffed haughtily. "Rude!"

Evelyn laughed, finding the sound strange despite herself. These last few days of gruelling travel and bitter disappointment had left her feeling vacant. She slept little, and ate less, and were it not for Friend, she might have driven herself into the ground with exhaustion. She felt she better understood Cullen these last few days, the mere thought of his name bringing a pained smile to her lips. Working herself into a bone-tired stupor was better than resting well enough to let her mind wander to topics that were best left alone. The wellbeing of her friends, her husband and her home, all considerations were off the table until she was in a position to do anything about them. Here, wandering down a dusty, hot road with pack animals and hay carts kicking dirt up into her eyes, she could most assuredly do nothing. Her predicament did not diminish her hopefulness, however, and after leaving Redcliffe she worked her way down to the Crossroads.

Yet again, her search for an occupied Inquisition camp left her wanting. While none of the men and women under her command remained, the villagers were helpful when they told her that all of the Inquisition's forces in the region had met here before heading to the capital.

Again, Evelyn considered, everyone seemed to be heading for Denerim. Had Leliana already discovered the situation at Skyhold, and was now recalling their soldiers attempting to determine what to do next? There was only one way to find out. She needed to head to Denerim. There lay the answers to all of her questions.

Though eager to be on her way, the men and women of the village insisted she stay the night. They gave Friend a wide berth, of course, not keen on striking up a conversation with what looked very much like a rock wraith, but they tolerated his presence all the same. Evelyn's influence in the region had earned her many friends, though she had not yet met them, and she was pleased to fill her belly with a bowl of warm stew, and sleep in a soft bed if but for one night.

She set out again in the early morning, leaving what supplies she could in the home of her host to make up for the resources she had used the night before, though her meager offering of an old wolf skin left much to be desired. It was all she had besides the dried food in her pack and the blanket with which she covered up at night. Evelyn swore she would return her and make up for the kindness she had been shown.

The Inquisitor spent three more days on foot walking the worn path of the Imperial Highway before she was obliged to stop. Friend had spotted a group of bandits not far off, and cautioned her against openly traveling past them. She knew well enough to stay away, she was not ignorant of the pitfalls in character men such as they possessed, but there was something she could not ignore. Sitting in the bandit's camp, in a neat line with hands and feet shackled in iron was a group of five slaves. Elves, by the look of them, Evelyn thought as she squinted her eyes against the sunlight. Their heads hung low, their bodies thin, and though she had somewhere pressing to be, she found herself entirely unable to ignore their suffering.

Cullen would have called her an idiot, she thought, twisting her wedding band around on her finger, but she had a plan. It was a poor plan, awful even, but she had little choice and it was not as if she was completely defenseless. If she couldn't resolve the situation she was about to enter peaceably, she would find a way out somehow.

Yes, Cullen would definitely be growling some obscenities now.

"Change of plans!" she suddenly called to Friend over her shoulder.

The spirit seemed confused as he followed after her, uttering a grumble of complaint once he realized her intention. The Inquisitor, unknown to the band of men she approached, strode confidently across the broad road and into the meadow on the other side. She was surprised at how long it took the bandits to notice her. It took so long, in fact, that she had to clear her throat.

"Oi! Whaddya want?" One of the men, likely their leader, spat at the ground as he addressed her, his eyes briefly flicking up to Friend who loomed behind Evelyn.

The man was positively charming.

Keeping the disgusted curl of her lip in check, Evelyn gestured plainly to the bandit's captives. "Selling slaves?" She asked. At her question she noticed the men grow tense, their shifty, dirt-smudged faces lingering on Friend, and then swiftly traveling to her. They didn't know what to make of her, she reasoned. That surely worked in her favor.

"Aye, and what's it to you, wench? Want to join them?" The leader laughed, propping his bruised knuckles upon his fleshy waist as he peered down his nose at her.

"Actually, I was hoping to buy them and take them off your hands for you. Must cost a small fortune, keeping them all fed and watered."

The man laughed again, and Evelyn swore she could smell the putrid stench of his breath waft across the distance between them and fought the urge to retch. Maker, is that what she smelled like after days of travel?

"Aye, I'd be sellin 'em." He looked her up and down, hard grey eyes appraising her shrewdly. "But you look worse than half the sorry bastards tilling the Blighted soil in these parts. Wager you haven't got a sovereign to your name."

"I've no gold, true," Evelyn spoke evenly, trusting Friend to watch her back as she stepped forward, wiggling the ring from her finger free. The sapphire winked back at her in the sunlight as she glanced down at her band. Surely it would be enough? She didn't think long on the price she was paying, knowing full well that aside from the shirt on her back, this was the only piece of Cullen she carried with her. Her eyes landed on the poor souls clapped in irons before swiftly returning to the barbarous man before her. She'd made her decision. "I do, however, have this."

She held out her hand with her wedding ring settled on her palm, wincing slightly when the man strode forward and snatched the valuable from her. She felt as though she'd ground her teeth down to stubs as she watched the man handle the object, holding it up to the light and eying it before he turned to her with a grin. "You want to trade this for that lot?" he asked gruffly, jerking his thumb behind him to the slaves who now eyed her with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

"Yes," she replied firmly with a nod, even as she felt a sick sensation bubble up in the pit of her stomach.

She could always get another ring, she told herself. She would find Cullen, explain the situation, and they would go find another ring and everything would be fine. What was a ring, after all, compared to a person's life?

"You've a deal then, girly!" The bandit leader tossed the ring up into the air before catching the bauble in one meaty fist, then whistled to his men who'd since surrounded Evelyn and Friend. "Time to go you bloody whoresons! Tonight, I'll buy the first round of ale!"

In a flurry of motion the bandits rounded up and mounted their horses, leaving Evelyn and Friend standing in the meadow with the elves, still shackled and in a cloud of dust. She watched the silhouettes of the men disappear beyond the horizon before she turned back to the bound men and women. They flinched at her attention, and all at once she knew that despite her personal loss, she had done the right thing.

"It'll be alright," she said to them, hurrying over. "Friend, do you think you can break these shackles without hurting them?" Evelyn peered up at her spirit friend whose eyeless sockets still considered the point on the horizon where the men had vanished. "Friend?" she asked again.

He turned bodily toward her, soundlessly leaning down to her level. "I think so. We should leave soon after they're free, though. I don't doubt those men will be back."

"They have what they want," Evelyn said with a frown and Friend got to work. "It's not as if I am rich. What else could they want from me?"

"If I may," one meek voice called Evelyn's attention away from Friend, "you didn't see the way some of those men were looking at you, miss."

Evelyn felt her stomach sink further. Of course, she should be more careful. Almost contrite at her lack of foresight, she tucked her lower lip beneath her teeth with a tired sigh. "You're right," she then said, offering the small group a small smile. "I don't mean to take you all anywhere with me. Once you're free, you're free. You can go where you wish."

A different one spoke this time, a young man who would have been about Michael's age were he still among the living. He had sandy blonde hair and a smattering of freckles across his nose, giving him a distinctly boyish appearance. "We were all smuggled out of Denerim. The alienage there is our home."

Evelyn frowned, wondering at how Alistair could overlook such an operation in his own city. "I am going to Denerim as well." She hesitated, not keen on showing her lack of knowledge about the region, but it seemed she had also bought these people's trust - for the time being, at least. "Am I headed in the right direction?"

Once free, the young man leapt to his feet, rubbing his sore wrists and ankles and casting Evelyn a wary, yet curious look. "You mean you don't even know where you are?" he asked haughtily, the tone of his voice shortening Evelyn's temper.

"Do you?" she snapped back, watching the tips of the young man's ears turn red with embarrassment. In that moment her mark crackled with Fade energy against her palm, casting her surroundings in a sickly green glow. Gritting her teeth against the flash of pain it brought, Evelyn reined in her ire. She'd been been burning the last of her patience on long sleepless nights spent on the road, and this young elf's self-importance in addition to the increasing instability of her mark was not something she wished to deal with at the moment. "Look," she sighed, clenching her fist against her discomfort despite the green tendrils of energy curling about her hand, "can someone please just tell me which direction in this Maker forsaken country Denerim is? I need to get there as soon as possible."

The men and women regarded her with wide eyes, and as Friend helped the last of them free from their bonds, one by one they began to back away from her. Only one of the former captives remained, the young man, who watched her with an expression she couldn't quite read. He held out a shaky finger, and pointed down the road where in the distance she could just make out the rise of a tower in the distance.

"Just keep going that direction." There was a pause as he turned to walk away with the rest of them, and he turned back to face her fully, brows knit together in a frown. "Keep off the main road until you're closer to that tower, he spoke. That's Fort Drakon, and someone there should be able to help you." Another pause, and he looked down at her glowing palm. "Creators be with you, Inquisitor. I am sorry."

Evelyn watched them go until they disappeared into the stand of trees beside the road, then turned her attention to her marked hand.

"Seems like those else know about what happened." Friend spoke up. "And if they know, Denerim does. We're headed in the right direction."

"You're right," Evelyn said quietly, hoping that the young man was only sorry for what had happened at Skyhold, and not something even worse. "Let's go. I need a bath."

Friend snorted. "You do! Humans are disgusting!"

The sun was setting when Denerim, in its stony, imposing mastery of the horizon, came into view. Evelyn damn near sank to the ground in relief, but she pushed herself. She made her feet carry her forward until she was met by two men standing guard in front of the city gates. They didn't budge from their posts, but she could feel their eyes on her as she limped beneath the massive archway. Friend, to limit the resistance they may have been met with at the sight of him, had more or less volunteered to leave his body behind and return to the saddle bags thrown over Evelyn's shoulder. She had to hush him several times to keep him from whining at an inopportune moment, forcing herself into a run when he began to curse loudly in front of the Chantry. Thankfully, there were no Templars in residence able to sense the spirit or Evelyn's magic.

She had just made it through the market proper and stepped onto a bridge that she assumed would lead her to Fort Drakon when the loud clattering of hooves silenced Friend's grumbling. A group of mounted riders appeared from around a bend in the road, and upon catching sight of her, the foremost of their number urged their horse forward in a canter. The large beast easily ate up the distance between them, and all the while Evelyn could feel her body sag with relief even as her heart pounded loudly against her ribcage in excitement. She'd made it, thank the Maker!

The horse skid to a halt on the cobbles after the rider had jumped from its back and folded Evelyn into a warm, welcome embrace.

"I did not think you had survived until my spies spoke of seeing you on the road." Leliana's accent wound about Evelyn's exhausted consciousness.

"Mhmm," Evelyn managed, gripping her spymaster tightly enough to keep herself standing. Despite wanting to recount all that had happened to her, all that Leliana would surely want and need to know, Evelyn felt the claws of exhaustion sink into her body and mind. She needed to sleep. She desperately needed it.

Leliana spoke again, the sound of her voice muffled as Evelyn's eyelids fell closed. "It's alright now."

* * *

Their journey to the White Spire had not been easy, Cullen reflected as he paced the length of the hall waiting for their party to be allowed into the keep proper. They'd been successful in skirting the horde until they grew closer to the Templar stronghold. Upon reaching the courtyard, surrounded by white-washed walls, they had become faced with two ogres and at least a dozen hurlocks.

He'd dislocated his shoulder barging his way into the Spire and Solona, who had helped him, wasn't much better off. As they waited she'd peeled back her gambeson and shrugged down the collar of her shirt to reveal a pale shoulder blooming with an angry bruise, and was now applying a poultice of elf root to stay the pain. His injury would likely require a firmer touch.

"Cullen!"

The Commander's head snapped up to see Cassandra, rather a sight in her golden armor, rushing toward him with a series of mages, Templars, and commonfolk alike peering out from the doorway behind her. She enveloped him in a crushing hug, and Cullen grunted against the pain it caused him before she abruptly let him go, eying him critically from his bloodied nose to his gore spattered armor.

"Come," she spoke quickly, "you need to see a healer and tell me what has happened. Bull arrived several days ago and-"

"Bull did?" Cullen asked, feeling the beat of his heart speed up as anticipation welled within him. Had Evelyn made it safely here?

He ignored Cassandra's attempt to stop him as he hurried forward to search for the Qunari mercenary.

"Evelyn was with Bull, right?" Hawke asked, drawing the Divine's attention away from Cullen and to the Champion.

"Yes, she was."

Marian grimaced at Cassandra's choice of words, and brought her fingers up to rub at her temples. "Fuck."


	5. Chapter 5

"What do you mean she's not here?" Cullen's voice was low and measured, but sounded threatening all the same; even though he was about a foot shorter than the hulking Qunari before him, it seemed he was succeeding in cowing the giant. It certainly appeared that way to anyone who didn't know The Iron Bull, at least.

"I meant what I said, Cullen. Evelyn is not with us. We were outnumbered on the road, and Evelyn was poorly equipped to help in a fight. I sent her on her way to the village at the base of the mountain, but when the Chargers and I got there, it had already been overrun by Darkspawn." Bull watched the ill expression come and go on the Commander's face, and part of him felt sympathy for the obvious upset the man was experiencing. "If it's any consolation," he continued, Cullen's eyes snapping up to his as he spoke, "Evelyn is a resourceful and intelligent lady. If the Darkspawn did take her, she would have put up one hell of a fight."

Cullen grimaced. "That does not help." Point of fact, _nothing_ was helping. Cullen thought he'd have preferred living in ignorance - that terribly hopeful state of being where the chances of her survival were greater than those of her death.

He shuddered violently at that thought. No, she couldn't be dead. He would know. He would _know_ if she'd died. Briefly, his gaze flicked up to the window, where the first, pale pink streaks of dawn lightened the sky over the smoking city of Val Royeaux. The day still marched steadily onward. The sun still rose in the sky, flowers still bloomed, and the world kept turning. He couldn't help but feel that if Evelyn was gone, truly gone, that everything would simply cease to be. How could he possibly begin to imagine a world without her in it?

"No, it doesn't," Bull conceded after a long moment of silence.

Armored footsteps interrupted the tense silence between them as Solona breezed into the room, ignorant of Cullen's inner turmoil. "Busy?" she asked, coming to a stop beside Cullen, her eyes passing over Bull with a cursory glance.

The mercenary and Cullen shared a brief look, then Cullen turned to regard her fully. He tramped down his concern for now, unwilling to let his consuming worry for Evelyn show. He suspected he was doing a rather poor job of it when something in Solona's expression changed, perhaps softened a bit, but he was less familiar with her expressions now than he had ever been, and there was work to do besides.

"Bull and I just finished our discussion," Cullen said. He needed to focus.

Evelyn was fine, he assured himself. She had to be.

Solona nodded. "Good. I spoke with the Divine. As I suspected, we are trapped here with the horde bearing down on our door, no thanks to you and Marian, but I am told there is a passage here that leads to the catacombs, and from there, a path into the Deep Roads."

Cullen's brows rose at that. He'd no idea such an escape route existed, though he supposed it only made sense. Were the Divine to be in any direct danger, she would have been ushered from the Grand Cathedral to the Spire, and from there the Knight-Vigilant would have stolen her away somewhere safe. He hardly considered the Deep Roads even remotely alike to a safehouse, however. That being said … .

"What about the Knight-Vigilant?" he asked.

"The Divine says he was gone before she arrived. Perhaps he became a coward and deserted. Wouldn't surprise me, considering he was a member of the Order."

Cullen pursed his lips and said nothing. She was wrong. The man he knew would have done no such thing. He might have been a cold and calculating hardass, but he was no coward.

"Where is this passage?" Bull asked, breaking the silent tension that had built between the Hero and the Commander.

"Marian is looking for it now. Cassandra is gathering those remaining in the Spire. If we do find the passage, it would be prudent to leave before a hurlock breaks in to chew our faces off."

"You're about as pleasant as Solas," Bull grumbled to himself.

Marian, as it turned out, had little trouble stumbling upon the correct stone in the exact place on the proper pillar, while positively _not_ looking, in order to open up the foul-smelling, ancient passage that would, hopefully, lead to their escape from the capital. For once, Cullen was glad that her penchant for getting into trouble unwittingly would lead to their intended salvation.

The tunnel was a dark and narrow path that barely allowed the passage of his armor in some places, and the damp air was so thick it made it difficult to breathe at times. To say nothing of the _stench_. It was clear they had found their way into the catacombs by sickeningly sweet odor of death that wafted into Cullen's nose with each breath. Perhaps he should have been thankful that he was almost used to the smell, what with the recent war.

The party that followed - Marian, Solona, Bull, Cassandra, and all of the survivors of the attack on the city - was tense and silent as they filed their way through the tunnel. Only a handful of them, and yet it was slow going downward until they finally emerged into a relatively open space. Hawke and Solona had summoned fire to light the way, and the soft, orange glow from their palms illuminated a silent, square-shaped room. The walls were lined with long recesses, into which the decomposed bodies of what must have been Templars lay, undisturbed for Maker knew how long before they had made their fumbling way to them in the dark.

Undisturbed by the sight of the corpses, Hawke drew closer, bending over at the waist to examine one such decomposed individual . "How long do you think they've been down here?" she asked to no one in particular, though Cassandra made a thoughtful noise in the back of her throat.

"Who can say?" she said. "It has likely been Ages since anyone has come here. Look at the style of their armor."

"Hmm." Hawke frowned slightly as she straightened. "Don't you think it's strange?"

"What's strange?"

"Their armor," she began, hesitating only a moment. "It looks similar in style to the Dalish. There are patterns hammered onto the breastplate that I've only ever seen in elven crafts."

Cassandra's brows rose a moment, before a thoughtful expression settled on her features. "Curious, though perhaps not so unusual. It's probable that after the March, the returning knights developed an aesthetic for the Dalish style."

Hawke snorted, clearly unamused.

Cullen couldn't say he was particularly inspired by that notion, either.

Room after winding room of graves they passed, and the minutes ticked by without any more conversation. Despite the silence of the dead, the atmosphere was heavy, almost oppressive. If Cullen didn't know better, he would have suspected some manner of demon to have made its home down in this dark, eerie place among the mice and withered corpses, but it was too quiet for that. Demons almost always wished to be the immediate center of attention, though something else was bothering him. He could feel the fine hairs on the back of his neck and along his arms rise as they delved deeper into the catacombs.

"Solona," he murmured, wondering if perhaps he was misreading the signs, unused to the sensation even now.

"Yeah, I feel it too. Just ahead." She glanced over at him in the dim light, the thoughts lurking behind her eyes too veiled for Cullen to read.

She looked away from him then, directing the others to remain in that dark space until they were sure the path ahead had been cleared of any threats. Only Hawke and Cassandra accompanied them.

Little by little the darkness seemed to fade as they walked along a straight section of tunnel, and soon they were greeted by muted sunlight filtering down through narrow gaps from above. The white light illuminated a large room, still shrouded in darkness at the edges while Ages old pillars balanced an arched ceiling every few feet. There was greenery here, clinging to the stone at the edge of the darkness and along the wet paths of moisture trickling down to the floor. At the far end of the room, the bright and cheery glow of altar tapers lined a crumbling shrine, where the visage of Andraste was weather-worn against a relief depicting the first Exalted March.

"There," Cullen breathed, spotting the hunched figure just in front of the shrine, armor shining in the dappled sunlight like a beacon. Despite the roiling in his stomach telling him exactly what to expect where he approached the figure, Cullen could still not shake the hope that somehow, some way, the Knight-Vigilant, the man who trained him when he was a boy, had escaped the Blight unscathed.

Perhaps without knowing it, Cullen stepped forward and into the light, the ringing sound of his sword as it was unsheathed echoing against the pillars. He heard Cassandra's blade as well, then the faint hiss and crackle of magic as Hawke and Solona readied their spells.

The sounds faded, warped and eerie before the figure shifted. Slowly, it leaned all of its weight onto the pommel of his sword as it stood, the tip of the blade grinding against the stone underfoot. Like some great giant it stood, straightening almost in slow motion before it turned. Silverite-clad feet shifted noisily with a lurching step, the whole body twisting to face the sound of their approach. A helm obscured a face Cullen had once known better than his own, and the hostile growl that echoed within was both frightening and familiar.

"Is that-?" Hawke began, shifting a step back.

"The Knight-Vigilant," Cassandra supplied without inflection.

"So we're very likely dead?"

"Probably," Cullen muttered absently, focusing on the knight before him as it began walking slowly towards them.

Hawke laughed, a breathy, nervous thing. "Always loved those odds."

* * *

" _Three_ Archdemons? Did someone piss in the Maker's eye?"

Friend, Evelyn decided, was only saying was everyone else had been thinking. She had arrived in Denerim two days ago, and they had been in Alistair's study for hours as she retold as much as she could remember of her flight from Skyhold. Despite her exhaustion, Evelyn knew that something needed to be done about the situation, though it seemed the whole of Thedas was in the same position. Blights. More than one.

Maker have mercy on them all.

"All reports indicate that Val Royeaux has fallen," Leliana spoke in her usual calculating articulation. She did not betray her worry but for the small furrow between her brows that Evelyn had become familiar with over the years. "With one of the Archdemons so close, you should consider deploying the bulk of your forces, Alistair."

"You believe it will turn towards Denerim? Come over the Frostbacks?"

The King was weighted down with worry, Evelyn could see from her vantage point perched upon the window sil.

"Can you afford to assume it will not?" Leliana replied.

The king sighed tiredly, rubbing the rough hairs of his beard before considering Anora, who had been listening patiently with Evelyn since the discussion had begun. "We can't. You're right."

"I can send the order to evacuate the farthest estates, Alistair," Anora offered. "Simply decide where you wish to place the guard "

The king grunted as if pained. "We simply don't have the numbers to create the sort of defensive perimeter an attack from the horde would require, and with the rest of Thedas in the same position, I could not ask for aid in good conscience."

"What remains of the Inquisition's forces will ally with Ferelden, of course," Evelyn spoke up. "Though I am afraid our numbers are limited as well."

There was a deep, world-weary sigh then. "It will have to do," Alistair said.

"What of the Free Marches?" Anora supplied. "Their independent holdings must harbor at least a moderate contingent of soldiers."

Alistair nodded. "Yes, but the other Archdemon is in the Anderfels. That's uncomfortably close to home, don't you think?"

Evelyn watched the city below from her place at the window, gazing out past the palace. The water of the harbor twinkled and glittered in the warm light of the setting sun. As she considered the scene before her, peaceful, as their very lives were not hanging in the balance, she came upon an idea.

"We should petition the Marcher states furthest from the Anderfels. The Waking Sea is not so far a distance between Ostwick and Denerim, certainly not as far as the distance between my home and the Anderfels. If an Archdemon were to gain a foothold here, it would be nothing to cross the sea and send the Blight sprawling over Starkhaven, and Kirkwall." Evelyn stood, and turned her gaze from the window to meet leliana's curious gaze. "Send word to my family. I will go petition them for assistance."

Anora made a pleased sound, but Alistair was less receptive to the idea.

"Alone?" he asked incredulously. "I appreciate the gesture, Evelyn, but Ferelden is my home. I would not feel right sending you to negotiate such a delicate agreement on my behalf."

Evelyn was tired. She understood where Alistair was coming from, truly she did, but they did not have time to stand on ceremony with the danger they were in. "So, come with me," she said. "Regardless of whether or not you agree, I still wish to return home, so you may as well tag along and see if the help you need will be offered."

"Home?" Leliana spoke softly. The question was not borne out of any ignorance of Evelyn's native land on the Nightingale's part, but for the burning question as to what would happen to the Inquisition.

"I will return, of course." Evelyn paused. "I just need some time. This seems like the perfect opportunity."

"Well, if that is how you feel, I have another task for you while you are away."

Evelyn eyed Leliana with a slight tilt of her head. The woman was forever moving in some subtle, shadowy manner that she could not easily follow. At least the woman was on her side, she comforted herself often. She did not know what she would do if Leliana had been moving against the Inquisition. For all the deliberate and useful counsel she had provided in the past, Evelyn was keen on hearing what the Nightingale had to say.

"There is a rumor of a weapon once wielded by one of the Evanuris. I have gleaned from my sources that it is located the forest of Arlathan, and has the capability of slaying an Archdemon."

Alistair rounded on her, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Without the use of a Warden?" he asked.

Something passed between them, some kind of silent conversation that had the king practically brimming with excitement. At once he turned back to Evelyn, a grin, confident and cheeky morphing his features into a pleasant expression Evelyn had not seen in days. If Leliana was correct, and Alistair seemed to think the weapon worth investigating, as Inquisitor, she could do no less but to further look into such an artifact.

"Alright. So we're looking for soldiers and a relic used to kill ancient gods. Is there any record of this weapon?""

"No," Leliana replied, "but Solas is searching for it. I believe his interest alone is a worthy enough indication that the rumors are likely not rumors at all, and that the weapon can very well do as speculated."

"A sure thing?" Alistair murmured.

"As sure as I can possibly be," Leliana replied. "Yes."


	6. Chapter 6

Evelyn sat at the edge of her borrowed bed, staring at the green light glowing angrily against her palm. It spit and hissed in another wave of instability, causing her to wince as pain lanced through her fingers and up her arm. While the anchor had never been dormant, it was not until very recently that it had begun to cause her discomfort.

It wasn't a good sign.

"It will be okay."

Friend's unusually calm voice drifted to her from across the room, and Evelyn closed her fingers tightly against her palm. She glanced up at her companion with a wan smile.

"I appreciate your trying to make me feel better, Friend, but I know what's happening," she sighed. "I'm beginning to think it has something to do with the dreams."

"The ones with that bald asshole?"

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Yes, though nothing has really made sense so far. So much talking, but in a language I can't quite understand."

"Well he needs to stop being such an ominous dick about everything and just make sense for once."

She pushed up from the bed, a genuine smile on her face now. "Either way, I can't get back to sleep now. Let's go see what trouble we can get up to."

Evelyn dressed and emerged from her guest room in the Eastern wing of the Denerim palace, feeling much less put together than she appeared. She hadn't been able to sleep properly for weeks. It was no small wonder, what with Solas in her head and Cullen constantly on her mind.

She felt the weight of simply thinking her husband's name settle heavily in her chest. No one had heard anything out of Skyhold, and all assumed the worst. It seemed Evelyn was the only individual who still clung to the faint vestiges of hope that somewhere, somehow, Cullen was alive.

She knew it was a foolish sentiment, but how could she think otherwise without losing her composure? There were people who needed her to be the Inquisitor, and she couldn't give them any less of herself simply because she felt like screaming on the inside.

Evelyn shoved those thoughts aside, and glanced over to Friend - having reduced the size of his body to the single skull - as she strode down the long hall toward the kitchens. She walked with purpose in this foreign place, showing anyone who might believe otherwise that she was perfectly capable of assisting in this - this mess. Ever since Teagan had essentially pinned her to the wall with accusations in Orlais, she had been more determined than ever to show the people of Ferelden that she was both competent and compassionate. Now that she was physically living within the seat of their government, she hoped that would be easier to achieve.

But it all had to start with looking the part. If Leliana and Josephine had taught her nothing else, it was that appearance was almost more important than actual ability - something Cullen groused about loudly and often.

She emerged from the hall to find herself in the reception room. It was openly attached to the throne room, or what she supposed most Fereldans referred to as the Landsmeet chamber. Perhaps she would have been drawn to the large, stately seat of power at the opposite end of the massive room were it not for the rather solid visage of a person standing in the way. As with all the shadows she saw and all the denizens of the Fade she'd met throughout her life, on this side of the Veil the figure appeared in shadow. It was tall, bulky - wearing some kind of armor she'd expect - and absolutely not some watery memory imprinted on these old halls. This being stood and guarded, though what against she hadn't the faintest idea.

"Leave it to a noble family to have so much money and miss the blood stain on the carpet," Friend spoke. "Or maybe it's just a Fereldan thing."

Evelyn glanced down at her feet, noticing for the first time the large, dark stain beneath her. She backed away from it, looking up again at the figure.

Strange.

"Hey you!"

The greeting had barely reached Evelyn's ears before someone's arms wrapped around her neck and swung her around in a fierce hug.

"We thought you'd gone tits up, yeah?"

" _Sera_!" Evelyn hugged her back, then pulled away with a fond smile. "To be honest, I thought I was going to."

"Well, you're in the fancy pants palace now." She warily regarded Friend out of the corner of her eye. "Wish you'd left that thing in a ditch along the way, though."

Evelyn hummed indulgently a moment. "I was just going to-"

"Lady Inquisitor!"

Evelyn wondered just how many people were going to sneak up on her today. Turning abruptly away from Sera, she spied one of the palace guards approaching. He seemed in a hurry, and Evelyn was unsure if she should be worried or anticipating good news.

The guard stopped shortly before her, and gave a quick bow. "Lady Inquisitor, King Alistair sent me to inform you that an officer of the Inquisition has arrived in Denerim, and now holds council with Sister Nightingale and the King in the palace courtyard."

She was shocked, to say the least, feet planted to the ground with her surprise before she found the presence of mind to nod quickly to the guard and thank him. Without another word, she moved down the corridor leading to the courtyard as swiftly as her legs could carry her. Sure enough, once she had reached the set of doors leading into the courtyard built to receive Denerim Palace guests, Evelyn spotted the Inquisition regalia immediately. Beneath the fluttering banners stood an armored figure flanked by a pair of Inquisition scouts, and though the face of the figure was obscured, Evelyn knew exactly who it was from his posture alone. No nonsense, and without any sort of flourish to his movements despite the royal audience, it could only be Rylen there.

She moved forward down the large stone steps and into the courtyard proper, eager to meet with Cullen's second and hear any news he might bring with him from the Approach. She assumed that in order to get to Denerim, the forces he'd led had to traverse the now apparently treacherous Orlesian countryside. He would have at least some information on the state of the country, and perhaps some news of the other Inquisition outposts along the way.

"Captain!" Evelyn called, trying - and failing - to hide the enthusiasm in her voice as she approached the trio.

Leliana and Alistair made room for her easily, while Rylen flashed her a genuine grin as he drew down the thin mask from his face - used to help in keeping sand away from the nose and mouth - before placing a fist over his heart and giving a short, perfunctory bow.

"Inquisitor," he replied, "it is good to see you alive and well."

"Same to you, Captain. It's a shock to see you in Denerim."

Rylen nodded shortly. "After the Archdemon surfaced, we packed what we could carry and were determined to make it back to Skyhold. We were lucky enough to skirt the damage in Orlais without running into too many Darkspawn, but as you know, by the time we reached Skyhold there was nothing left."

"We have heard no word from Skyhold since the night of the attack," Evelyn spoke, trying her utmost to keep the note of worry from her voice. "What did you find?"

Rylen continued. "The gate was drawn, so we spent some time sending scouts over the wall to lift the damn thing. When we finally got inside there was nothing. No bodies, no armor or weapons. It was an eerie sight."

Evelyn felt her heart thudding loudly behind her ribs. Nothing? No one? Maker, did that mean the others - Cullen - had been taken by the Darkspawn? "No sign of the Commander?" she asked.

Ryle shook his head, allowing himself a moment to look sorry about it. "Nothing. We had hoped we would find him here, but Sister Nightingale has been kind enough to fill me in on the particulars." He paused, before bowing his head. "You have my deepest condolences."

Evelyn sighed quietly and shook her head, forcing a smile on her face. "We are all aware that there is no promise of tomorrow. I am glad, however, that you at least thought to look."

Suddenly, Rylen appeared stunned by something before holding up a finger to rummage around in a small leather pouch beneath the plate at his hip. "I have something for you, Inquisitor. Along the road, we came across a small band of elves. I was surprised when one of them paused to stop me after seeing our banners." Rylen found what he had been looking for, and offered his palm to Evelyn.

Nestled on the supple leather of his gauntlet was Evelyn's wedding ring.

Carefully, she plucked up the small, fine piece of jewelry and fitted it to her ring finger, fighting tears. "I never thought I would see this again." She gave Rylen a watery smile. "I don't know how to thank you."

Seeming uncomfortable with the attention, the captain coughed awkwardly and shifted on his feet. "About the third Archdemon, Inquisitor, Nightingale, Your Majesty," he nodded at each in turn. "There was something I wished to mention."

Leliana's gaze seemed to sharpen, focus. "Go on."

"While I have never seen an Archdemon with my own eyes, the creature that ousted us from the Approach didn't seem at all like what is described in the stories. The thing looked like a small dragon, pale in color like its scales hadn't seen the light of day for an Age. Seemed sickly, but intelligent too. We weren't expecting it to come up from the abyss. It had every opportunity to have us overrun, but didn't do a damn thing."

Alistair frowned. "That's unusual. Was there a horde of Darkspawn under its command?"

Rylen shook his head. "A few roaming bands of Darkspawn, but not the massive armies outlined in tales of previous Blights. Instead of taking our chances, I ordered every soul in the Keep to pack up and head out."

The Captain gestured behind him with a jerk of his thumb over his shoulder. "We're all of us here, Your Majesty. Might I impose and rest everyone here for a time, at least until we figure out another base of operations?"

Alistair nodded. "Of course, Captain. I will have Fereldan soldiers prepare your men and women with a place in Fort Drakon."

Evelyn turned to the monarch with a grateful smile. "I appreciate your help, Alistair."

"Of course," he replied easily. "The only caveat is that I would like the support of the Inquisition if the Archdemon happens to set its sights on Ferelden."

"You needn't even ask, Your Majesty. The Inquisition stands with you."

"Now that we have more information on what is occurring in Orlais, and more troops under the Fereldan banner, we can focus on your upcoming trip to the Free Marches, no?" Leliana mused.

"Yes," Evelyn sighed, a bit wistful at the prospect of returning home. "The sooner we leave, the better."

* * *

Solona rolled away from a large swinging arc of the broadsword wielded by the corrupted Templar and grunted with effort as she popped back up next to Cassandra. The Divine roared fiercely before shield bashing the oncoming blow, sending him backward nearly into the firestorm Hawke had created. Catching onto the trap at the last moment, he unleashed a powerful smite that blew the flames backward, toward Hawke, and ultimately caused them to sputter out and die.

"I never knew a Divine could be so potent in a fight!" The Warden called, in that moment attempting to distract the Vigilant from Hawke, his new target.

The Champion was slipperier than a greased pig, however, and dashed around the warriors to take refuge behind Cullen as she gulped down a lyrium potion.

Cullen barked a laugh at Solona's comment while he smacked the flat side of his sword against the metal of the Vigilant's helm in an attempt to disorient him. "You have never fought beside Cassandra before," he said. "She's practically a one woman army!"

The tainted Templar staggered, a feral growling noise reverberating within his helm and out into the dim light of the surrounding cavern. Cullen wished the man had retained his presence of mind so they could dispatch him with the dignity he deserved. But if wishes were horses, then beggars would surely ride. Still, he hoped to at least make the end quick, if nothing else.

Cassandra huffed at their banter, pretending that the rising color in her cheeks did not exist. "I just take care of the problem set before me. It is what anyone would do." She said this as she used her shield to again, this time to cover herself from an onslaught of blows while she sheathed her sword and drew a slim knife. She eyed Cullen, and a thought passed between them that they both understood with perfect clarity.

Switching immediately to the offensive from where he had been covering Hawke, he began to harry the Vigilant with a renewed intensity. "Solona, ice!" he called, and it took but seconds for the Warden to freeze the Templar well enough to slow him down at least.

Once sufficiently immobilized, Cullen dropped his sword and shield and threw himself onto the armored figure. His arms banded tightly around the Vigilant's torso, and he paid careful attention to restrict the movement of his shoulders, using the weight of his own body to drag the man toward the ground. Cassandra wasted little time moving in, taking a blow to her hip while she slipped the small blade in her hand between the chinks in the Vigilant's armor along his forearm. Her aim true, the Templar howled in pain as his sword clattered to the ground. It was then the Divine removed the knife from his arm, and rotated the blade up, and shoved with all of her might.

The tiny weapon made only the faintest scraping noise as it drew along the underside of the Vigilant's helm, into the flesh of his throat after piercing the thick padding beneath his robes. There was a brief, sputtering sound as a dark ichor began to drip from beneath the man's helm where he had been stabbed. Between the four of them, it seemed the Knight-Vigilant had been successfully dealt with.

Breathing hard, Cullen wiped his brow with the back of his hand and nodded at Cassandra, who took a moment to catch her breath as well.

"I am glad that was easier to do then I had anticipated."

He smiled. "As am I." Turning toward Solona, he offered his thanks for her help while Hawke moved forward to examine the Vigilant's body. Cullen didn't necessarily appreciate the Champion looting the corpse, but they had little in the way of supplies. He supposed it was foolish to cling to sentiment when there was a whole group of people who needed the extra materials required to traverse the path out of Val Royeaux.

"Definitely dead, and definitely consumed by the Blight," Hawke murmured, cutting a bag of coin from the Vigilant's belt, jingling it a moment, and then tying it to her own. She tossed him a few stamina potions as he drew nearer, and Cullen allowed himself to thank Hawke's ruthless efficiency.

"He must have come down here when he realized he would be a danger to those in the Spire," Cassandra thought aloud. "Poor man. He was a good teacher to the new Order."

Cullen allowed himself a brief prayer on the man's behalf as he tucked away the new rations onto his person.

Cassandra left to retrieve the rest of their ragtag group from the catacombs where they had left them.

Meanwhile, Solona ventured toward the back of the room, near where the shrine still glowed with candlelight in the darkness. Shortly thereafter, a rumbling, cracking noise caught his attention as the mage stepped away from the now gaping hole in the stone wall. Mortar and old stone fell away with loud thuds, and it seemed the unexpected discovery had surprised them all.

Except maybe one.

"Oh, fancy that. I'm not the only one here who inadvertantly breaks things," Hawke smirked. She walked swiftly past Cullen to examine the hole with Solona, and made a low whistling noise.

"Hey grumpy, come check this out!"

Cullen rolled his eyes, spying Cassandra's return as he wandered over to where the two women stood.

He was stunned.

"Maker," he breathed. "They were right about a whole city being under here. Doesn't look Dwarven, though."

Solona hummed. "Not at all. Must be a much older portion of Val Royeaux." She squinted, clucking her tongue. "And entirely occupied by Darkspawn."

Cullen could see nothing, but he did feel that feeling - the drawing sensation from his navel toward the scuttling, shrieking creatures lurking in the darkness before them.

Perfect. Just bloody perfect.

"Well, that's my cue," Hawke spoke cheerfully as she stepped through the accidental breach in the wall. She held her hands aloft as a popping, whirring noise preceded the whoosh of flame that erupted to life in her hands. "Time to party."

"Hawke," Cullen groaned, "please don't burn the buildings around us."

"Oh ye of little faith," she quipped back before setting off at a jog, Solona close on her heels.

Sending his eyes heavenward, Cullen went after them once he'd assured the others were to follow. He did not know where their path would lead, but Solona seemed sure they would end up in the Deep Roads somewhere. She had also mentioned the Roads would be mostly clear of Darkspawn, given they were now crawling all over the surface.

Another shriek pierced the darkness.

Though it seemed they would have to fight through a few more of the Blighted creatures before they found their way to a potential escape. Despite everything that had happened between them, Cullen trusted Solona's judgement in this, and allowed himself to be led further down into the bowels of Thedas.


End file.
